


keep it simple, stupid

by remslocke



Category: Shazam! (2019)
Genre: M/M, Pining, gay crisis: the saga, it’s only rated T because freddy’s an idiot teenager that cusses, please protect these kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 11:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remslocke/pseuds/remslocke
Summary: freddy has a Problem, mary tries to play matchmaker, and billy is blissfully oblivious.





	keep it simple, stupid

Freddy _may_ have a problem.

There’s something on his mind lately; it’s something weighing down on him in an uncomfortable way, but not uncomfortable enough that he feels compelled to tell someone about it.

It’s not like the Bryers or anyone else for that matter are giving him a hard time anymore—after the Shazam-Supes incident, people have been a _lot_ more civil towards him—but there is something _bothering_ him. Like a recurring itch. An irritation, an emotional _rash_. 

And that rash tends to flare up in rather...specific situations.

“Hey, Billy,” a girl he recognizes from their math class chirps as she and her couple friends pass the two of them in the hallway. Stacy? Christina? Something like that. Billy manages a typical half-hearted courteous smile-nod in return before they’re out of sight.

Freddy wills away the irritation that springs up when a string of giggles can be heard in the distance behind them, fading as the girls round the corner. The itch deep in his chest is back.

Rosa always says the best way to get a rash to go away is to leave it alone. Or to apply some salve, but he honestly has no idea what would equate to a salve in this situation. So instead, he bites his cheek and bears it, fingers tightening around the handle of his crutch.

He’d been so caught up in willing the itch away that he’d fallen into an uncharacteristic silence, something his best friend is quick to pick up on. Because _of course_ he is.

“Hey, are you alright?” Billy murmurs, the beginnings of a frown on his face. The crease forming between his brows just calls attention to his eyes, clear blue and full of concern, and that of course leads to his mouth, which will sometimes pull back in a rare bright smile, revealing an adorable dimple, and—

Freddy clears his throat. “Yeah, sorry, I was just. Yeah.” Nice one, Freeman.

Billy holds his look of concern for a second longer before the corner of his lip draws back in a half-smirk, mischief replacing most of the worry that had been clear in his eyes previously. “Guess work went a little too late last night, huh?” he remarks in a hushed tone.

(He ignores the way his heart rate jumps up ever so slightly at his best friend’s smirk. Probably just adrenaline from...something. Puberty? He doesn’t know; health class isn’t exactly his forte.)

It takes a moment for Freddy to remember that he is, in fact, a superhero. A spandex-wearing, cape-toting, perfect-smile-bearing superhuman that helps those in need. And a superhero shouldn’t let something as insignificant as a metaphorical rash get to him. That would just be unprofessional.

And it’s probably nothing, anyways. Probably.

(The rash flares up indignantly as if to prove him otherwise.)

“Nah, I’m good.” Freddy relaxes his grip on his crutch, trying to look as casual as he wants to feel. “Those guys last night were _nothing._ They didn’t even land a hit on me before Darla took ‘em out.”

(But he almost wishes they did, just so he could pinpoint the cause of this irrational emotional dysfunction on something that makes sense.) 

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t have a _problem_ , Freddy repeats to himself internally as he kneads his forehead with balled fists. Billy’s on dish duty tonight, so he’s stealing a few minutes of privacy in their shared room. He’s sitting at the desk that used to be solely his but started accumulating some very Billy _-_ esque touches ever since the boy tumbled into the Vasquez household—something that Freddy doesn’t really mind, as it turns out.

As his eyes drift to the beanie and gloves strung messily about the desk, among crumpled papers and squashed bullets (courtesy of Billy’s Shazam body), he can feel the throbbing itch in his chest creep back into his consciousness. His room looks twice as lived-in now and the house feels complete, even _more_ complete than it was before now that Billy is here.

_Freddy_ feels complete. He has a best friend for the first time since maybe fourth grade, when that one classmate helped pull the chair back for him to sit in and hence became Freddy’s First Best Friend. Poor Steve Sanders hadn’t appreciated it very much back then, but Freddy’s pretty sure the friendship is reciprocated this time.

But what happens if Billy starts meeting the eyes of all the girls that greet him now, Freddy can’t help but wonder. What if one day, a pretty girl smiles and Billy smiles back? In his comics, whenever the superhero got with the love interest, their other friendships were usually unchanged, so why does the idea of losing Billy to someone else make his gut churn?

The walls of the bedroom rattle ever so slightly in a telltale sign that the front door has been opened. Freddy sits up, dropping his hands from his face. A faint _“I’m home!”_ can be heard in the voice of his only older pseudo-sister, Mary.

_Mary_. She might know what he should do, being older and wiser and in university and whatnot. Freddy hoists himself to his feet, leaning on the desk for support as he kicks up his crutch with his good leg. As soon as he’s up, he makes a beeline for the door.

He catches her by the laundry room emptying a bag of clothes into the machine. “Hey Mary,” he greets.

“Freddy, what’s up?” Mary replies easily, turning her head to briefly meet his gaze before redirecting her focus to the washing machine.

Freddy gnaws on his cheek for a half-second. He’s starting to regret even considering admitting to his sister that he may have a Problem—admitting it would just make it real, after all, and it probably _isn’t,_ so. “Why d’you keep bringing your dirty laundry home every weekend, anyway? Aren’t there washing machines in college? Or is this symbolic of how you feel about us now that you’re an _adult?_ ” he asks instead, his motormouth running off.

Mary rolls her eyes, tapping a few buttons on the machine. “Simple. It’s free here.”

Freddy opens his mouth and closes it. “Still seems like a lot of work for some clean clothes…”

She rights herself, standing up straight and facing Freddy full-on. “Alright, Freddy, what is it?”

“What do you mean?” He shifts his balance on the crutch, batting his eyelashes in what he hopes is a nonchalant way.

“I like to think I know my own little brother well enough to know when something’s not right. You never approach me out of nowhere like this—well, you _do,_ but you usually tell me some weird gross factoid and then disappear somewhere…”

“Maybe I’m just lonely.” He shrugs his shoulder.

Mary snorts. “Why, did you fight with Billy?”

The unexpected mention of his roommate’s name prompts the _rash_ to make itself known again, fluttering in his chest, much to his chagrin. He quells his jitters and swallows. “What? No, no,” he answers emphatically, shaking his head, but then he finds himself without anything else to say. Freddy Freeman is _never_ tongue-tied, even when he wishes he could be.

And Mary notices, something glinting in her eyes that unsettles Freddy ever so slightly.  She crosses her arms. “Alright, my room, now.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

  
  


“So? Spill.”

Mary lies across her bed on her stomach while Freddy sits in a chair, and the expectant way she’s looking at him makes Freddy feel like he’s at a sleepover and it’s his turn to share the hottest gossip.

He shrugs. “It’s really nothing,” he starts. “Probably just some puberty-related hormonal imbalance thing, or maybe like. Uh. An emergent side-effect of getting superpowers? Or…” He trails off, the well of excuses running dry much sooner than he’d hoped.

Mary’s brow remains quirked after the word _hormonal_. “Done stalling yet? I’m not sure how much time we have before Billy comes looking for y—“

“Okay, fine!” Freddy sighs. “These people at school, they’ve been—they’ve been getting on my nerves lately, that’s all.”

In the span of a second, Mary’s gaze shifts from mischievous to concerned. “Wait, do you mean…”

“No, not like _that,_ ” Freddy clarifies, knowing that she’s referring to the Bryers. “They haven’t actually _done_ anything to me, they just...I dunno, annoy me.”

Mary settles back down. “How so?”

_By talking to my best friend in a totally innocuous way._ Freddy laughs humourlessly, shaking his head. “It’s stupid, and, and—I don’t know why either, but…they talk to Billy, and…”

Mary sits up, scrutinizing Freddy with a sudden intensity.

Freddy blinks. “What?”

“Who are these people, exactly? Like, classmates, teachers, strangers…?”

“They’re classmates. Girls in our class,” he replies.

“So you feel annoyed whenever girls talk to Billy, then?” Mary’s starting to smile now. Some sister, laughing at him in his time of need.

“Yeah, I guess?” Freddy replies harshly, the fact that Mary doesn’t seem to be taking this seriously ticking him off a little.

Mary hums, placing her chin on her hand. “Freddy, do you like Billy?”

The question makes his heart thud so noisily in his chest he’s at least 70% certain—no, _80%_ certain that everyone else in the house can feel it. Does he like Billy? Of course he does, he’s his _best friend_ , the first person to listen to him genuinely outside of his siblings, and even his siblings tend to squabble or tune him out more than Billy does.

Billy is his best friend, the one that completed him both figuratively and literally by sharing his Shazam powers _and_ his friendship (no matter how cheesy it may sound, even in his head), and whatever other feelings he’s feeling right now are just a result of over-attachment. Clinginess.

“No shit, he’s kind of my best friend,” Freddy reiterates out loud, mouth dry. He even manages an incredulous snort, but one look at Mary tells him she isn’t buying it, either.

“You know what I mean,” she says.

He does. And Freddy isn’t usually one to lie to himself, either—he just, he just _hopes_ he’s wrong, and he thought maybe if he kept thinking untruths, they’d someday become real. Clearly, it isn’t working, and the hardness in Mary’s stare combined with the thick silence that had followed her words chip away at his resolve.

“Yeah, I do,” he says quietly. He throws his hands up at the admission, trying to conceal just how much more frantic the thrumming in his chest has gotten. “So what?”

Mary smiles without a trace of the malice or mockery he’d expected, but it still does nothing to calm him down. “Took you long enough to realize. God, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of seeing you follow Billy around like a lovesick puppy.”

“You just pressured me into spilling my guts, and now you’re laughing at me? Really, some sister you are,” Freddy snarks weakly.

“I’m not laughing at you, Freddy,” Mary assures. “It just seemed so obvious to me. Natural.”

_Natural_. She’s right, it does seem natural that Freddy would fall for Billy one way or another. He makes it all too easy with his stupid dimpled smiles and breathy laughter. “So, now what?”

“What?”

“What do I do about it? You haven’t actually addressed my _problem,_ ” Freddy stresses, crossing his arms.

“It’s not a _problem_ ,” Mary says. “You’re so defensive.”

“It _is_ a problem, especially if I’m stuck giving every girl Billy talks to the stink eye for the rest of my life!” Freddy all but exclaims, exasperated. “I just...I’m already so pathetic, you know? Golden boy Billy Batson’s crippled little sidekick. I don’t need... _this..._ too.”

All traces of humour leave Mary’s face, and she swings her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. “Oh, Freddy,” she sighs, gesturing for him to hobble out of his chair and onto the bed next to her, which he reluctantly does. She puts an arm over his shoulder, drawing him into a side-hug she must have picked up from Rosa. “Billy, of _all_ people, does not think you’re pathetic. None of us do. No one that matters does.” Freddy is quiet, letting the familiar words sink in. “And having _feelings_ is totally normal, too.”

He wishes he could agree, but he doesn’t know how _normal_ is supposed to feel, either. What he feels towards Billy doesn’t even compare to what he’s felt towards the gorgeous Wonder Woman, or the pretty sophomore who walks past their lockers every Thursday. He can’t compare this torrent of emotions to anything else, and it scares him.

Mary holds the side-hug for a few more moments before letting go to look at him properly. “How was that for good sistering? Pretty good, right?”

Freddy smirks, wobbling a hand in the air. “Passable, I guess.”

Mary ruffles his hair. “Anyways, as for what you can do about your feelings, why don’t you just find out if Billy feels the same way?”

Freddy’s mind blanks. “What? No, no, no way.” He wheezes a laugh, wiggling out of Mary’s grip. “Mary, I don’t even know if Billy likes _boys—_ hell, _I_ didn’t even know I liked boys until now!” he whisper-hisses. Even now, he’s not sure if he likes boys in general or just _Billy_.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try to find out,” Mary sing-songs.

He’s left sputtering incredulously at Mary’s insinuations, eyes darting between the door and his sister’s face. The faucet had stopped running downstairs, meaning he probably didn’t have much time left before one of their siblings came poking their nose into things. “Even _if,_ and that’s a big freaking _if,_ Billy likes boys, why the hell would he like _me?”_

“Oh my god, we _just_ went through this whole self-worth thing, Freddy—”

Just as Freddy’s about to argue back, the door swings open and reveals the talk of the town himself, Billy Batson. Mary and Freddy immediately zip it when he steps in, looking right at the latter.

“Am I interrupting something?” Billy asks, adopting that familiar I’m-out-of-place look he’d worn almost constantly for the first month or so in the Vasquez household.

“Yeah, brother-sister bonding,” Freddy retorts, sliding off the bed and taking his crutch from Billy’s offering hand. “What’s up?”

“Oh. Uh, I was gonna go for a quick lap around the neighbourhood. For patrol and stuff.” It’s an unspoken invitation that Freddy is more than willing to pick up on, but Mary leans back on her bed and smiles amicably.

“I’ll pass tonight. I’ve got a paper to write up before Monday that I should get started on,” she says, and Billy nods, clearly trying not to look too pleased at the fact there won’t be a voice of reason accompanying them tonight.

“That’s cool,” he says shortly, then he looks back to Freddy. “Let’s go, then?”

“Yeah.” Freddy stifles the embarrassing dorky smile that threatens to ruin the moment and makes his way towards the door behind Billy.

  
He meets the meaningful stare of Mary on the way out, who mouths _think about it_ before she’s out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> i love two (2) dumbass boys


End file.
